


Mind Games

by Sophia_Bee



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brother-Sister Relationships, Charles Always Says the Absolute Worst Thing He Could Possibly Say, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Little Sisters, M/M, Poor Erik, Raven is awesome, Snark, Starbucks, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5305751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charles picks up a stray thought he learns that someone in the room at a horrible party Raven has dragged him to has a things for guys in cardigans. When he discovers it's a thing for HIM, the interloper gets a heaping serving of Charles' consternation plus a drink in the face. Just Charles' luck that the unwelcome intruder now feels bad and keeps trying to make things better in the most awkward manner possible. The problem is that Charles just can't stay out of his head. Raven is NOT impressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radkoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radkoko/gifts).



> Dear Radkoko - I hope you enjoy this bit of Cherik silliness. I always love the chance to write a college AU. Happy Secret Mutant!!!!!
> 
> Written for the prompt: Erik's thinking dirty thoughts about Charles without knowing he's a telepath. Charles gets embarrassed/offended and throws his drink in Erik's face, running away from the party they're at. When Erik sees Charles next he tries to make up for it, still not aware that Charles is a telepath, and Charles finally feels pity and tells him.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, **Leafeylocket**. The big beta bucks!!!!

There have been nothing short of one hundred times that Charles has had it confirmed that Raven being a freshman at the same University where he’s finishing up his doctorate was a bad idea. There was the time she decided to remind him of dorm life by putting saran wrap over his toilet. There was her insistence on making him eat in the cafeteria with all her giggling freshman friends. Good god, the time she called him drunk from a frat party to pick her up. But this...this is intolerable.

Charles grips the red solo cup in his hand and edges closer to the wall. It would be nice if he could at least enjoy a beer, but the muck that the cup contained was far from the craft brews he enjoyed at the bar down the street on the rare occasion that Hank convinced him to go out. It’s clearly not meant to taste good but to get one good and drunk.

Good and drunk was starting to sound good.

It will be fun, Raven had said over her omelette that morning, shoving forkfuls into her mouth after complaining about the cafeteria food. Charles rolled his eyes, not bothering to ask why she insisted on dragging him there regularly if the food was so horrendous. Then she looked at him with her amber eyes sparkling and informed him she intended to get entirely wasted and would like a chaperone. Charles had taken a long drink of his coffee as he glared at Raven, mustering up all his will to properly chastise her like an older brother should.

It’s not like he’s really that much older. Only a few years, but Raven has had a normal life and Charles’ has been far from it. He was out of the house at university at fifteen, then was the youngest doctoral student in his program at twenty two, although Raven still teases him that surely he’s actually the oldest based on the way he dresses. He has approached college with the same level of intent and determination that Raven seems to be approaching her goal to attend as many parties as possible.

Before Charles could tell Raven she should slow down, and that he hates parties, and it’s taxing for telepaths to be in crowds, and he needs to do some research anyway, and really, she can take a cab home, she had stood up, grabbed her book bag, and told him she would pick him up at 7. It will be fun, she had said, giving Charles a wink. Then she added that he also might meet someone. After all, he was in college. He should be getting some.

_Dear god._

Charles tries to push that conversation out of his mind, not entirely comfortable about his little sister lecturing him about getting some. Parties are hard for him, all of the sloppy thoughts around him encroaching on the shields he’s learned to keep up. He smirks a little at Raven’s assertion that he’s in college, like her. He’s a doctoral student, not some ne’er-do-well college student torn between his studies and which raucous party to attend, struggling through classes with a hangover every Monday. And Tuesday. And Wednesday. Charles starts to feel clever as he thinks that Thursday should be added to the list when a crumpled piece of paper hits him in the forehead.

“For god’s sake Charles, SMILE!” Raven - the thrower of the crumpled paper - yells over the music at him from the small group of dancers in the middle of the room. The speakers in the corner thump. The whole room buzzes with conversation. It’s warm and has that smell that comes with crowding too many people into a small space. Charles slumps further against the wall, trying to disappear into the dark edges of the room and thinks that maybe he should just give up and drink the swill in the red solo cup, although getting drunk will make the strain on his telepathy that much worse.

Charles starts going over his research in his head. After all, what else is there to do but immerse his brain in genetics? It’s not like anyone is here for actual conversation. He’s mentally working through a complicated equation when a single voice breaks through the background buzz of thoughts around him. Charles might wonder how this stranger broke through his shields, but he’s too startled as he hears, clear as a bell inside his head:

_That cardigan. How can someone in a cardigan be so hot?_

The thought is deep and rumbly, almost pleasant, and mildly aroused. Charles swallows. It’s often hard to manage his powers when he gets in range of someone who is aroused. Those types of thoughts have a way of breaking through. It’s left him feeling very embarrassed at times; now and then his accidental voyeurism has resulted in an uncomfortable hard-on at a very inappropriate moment.

Charles glances around, curious. He tries to spot the cardigan-wearer, the object of this person’s attentions.

_It really should be criminal to wear a cardigan that tight._

Charles picks at his cardigan. At least someone else is wearing one tonight. Raven had made fun of his, but he snapped back that he would not be conforming to her standards of dress for a party that he didn’t want to go to. She had retorted that he could have it his way but cardigans reduced one’s chances of getting lucky by 37%. Research had proven that. She ended that particular comment on his choice of clothing with the phrase, ‘you nerd’. Charles wishes he could grab Raven, who is draping herself around some girl’s neck, and tell her that she was wrong. According to some random person at this party, cardigans are unreasonably hot. That would also prove to her that cardigans are NOT out of place at drunken college soirées. Charles feels a small amount of triumph at not being the only one.

_And those thighs._

Charles starts to feel hot.

_No one should look that good in khaki._

Charles glances down at his flat-fronted khaki trousers.

_...would strip those trousers off until they were bunched around his ankles, then turn him around and lick that sweet little ass._

“OH MY GOD.” Charles says out loud. He goes from feeling a bit too hot to downright embarrassed. HE is wearing a cardigan. HE is wearing khaki trousers. The man, the one with the rumbly, pleasant, dirty thoughts is thinking about HIM. Whoever he is, he wants to lick Charles’ ass. Charles squeezes the red solo cup and it makes a cracking sound in his hand. Charles goes from feeling anonymous in this room full of people who don’t care about some old-before-his-time science nerd in the corner to...to an OBJECT. He’s an object. Whoever this person is, this voice in his head, he doesn’t know Charles. He doesn’t know that he likes his coffee sweet, that he hates driving in the city, that he cares about the presidential election. He doesn’t know that he’s going to unlock the genetic secrets of mutantkind someday, bringing humans and mutants together, to fix the ugliness of the world. He doesn’t know that he has a soft spot for dogs. He doesn’t know any of this. He just thinks that Charles is…

_...a hot piece of tail,_

The thought breaks through Charles’ mental ranting. Charles scans the room, his eyes narrowed, looking for the purveyor of the dirty thoughts that have invaded his mind. He can’t make out anyone’s face in the dim room, there’s no one even turned his way. Charles is almost sputtering when he feels a light touch on his elbow. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling entirely not in the mood to deal with Raven cajoling him or teasing him, so he turns, his brow knitted, annoyed, a reproach at the tip of his tongue, opens his mouth to deliver his reproach, then stops short.

It’s not Raven.

Standing in front of Charles is a tall boy with a bit of a grim look on his face. He’s all planes and sharp angles, with short dark hair and pale eyes, although Charles can’t quite see their color in this dim light. He’s handsome. His chest is broad, his hips narrow. Charles stares at him for a long moment, then entirely subconsciously he licks his lips.

_oh god, that tongue._

Charles’ eyes widen. His mouth falls open.

“You...YOU.” Charles stammers, flooded with consternation. The boy’s eyes widen, no doubt surprised at Charles’ reaction to a simple touch on his elbow. “I am not some object, someone for you to just fantasize about. That makes me less than a person, it makes me someone who is just in this world for your pleasure...I can’t believe you were thinking about me like that. I just wanted to stand here, not enjoy this awful party, and you...you….”

Charles pauses to take a breath, staring at the boy, who is staring back with an entirely shocked look on his face.

“You may NOT lick my ass,” Charles finally declares. And with that, he takes the red solo cup and throws its contents in the other boy’s face, then turns before he can see his reaction, or get punched, and storms out of the house. Raven has enough money in her wallet for a cab home. That boy, with his dirty thoughts, can go to hell.

 

* * *

 

The next time Charles sees Dirty Talker, a nickname Raven had given him after thoroughly chewing Charles out for ditching her at the party, he tries his best to ignore him. Unfortunately it turns out that Dirty Talker has a bad case of regret and is determined to make up for his transgressions. It seems Charles will not be able to let the unfortunate incident slip away into the past like he would prefer.

_Oh. He’s here. Getting coffee. I should talk to him._

Charles closes his eyes as a now familiar voice breaks into his thoughts. He’s standing in the line for coffee at the Starbucks on the corner across from the university. Jesus Christ, all he wanted was his fucking pumpkin spice latte and to get back to the lab with Hank. It’s just his luck that Dirty Talker decides he needs a…

_triple grande latte_

...right now at THIS particular Starbucks. And who the fuck drinks triple grande lattes? You need some sugar to cover the burnt taste of Starbucks after all. Clearly Dirty Talker is an idiot. Charles rolls his eyes as he approaches then steels himself to deal with his unwelcome visitor.

“Hey,” Dirty Talker rumbles from Charles’ right side. Charles turns and stares at the boy who had accosted him at the party just a few days ago. He’s taller than Charles remembers, not that Charles has been thinking about him, and in the expertly-muted light of the Starbucks he can see that his eyes are actually a light blue. He’s wearing slim jeans that ride a bit low on his hips and a zip-up hoody, plus an overloaded hipster messenger bag that's slung across his chest. Charles levels a glare at the unwanted intruder.

“I..uh...I didn’t want to lick your ass, I mean, I did.” Dirty Talker stammers as he starts to turn a little pink, swaying a little like people do when they’re nervous.

Charles snorts. At least Dirty Talker is being honest.

“I’m trying to get my coffee in peace.” Charles snaps.

_Oh god, I’ve fucked up. I just wanted to make it better and I fucked up. And he’s looking at me like that. With those eyes. I’m such an idiot._

Dirty Talker says none of what he’s thinking. He just offers Charles a wan, apologetic smile. “Okay.” Dirty Talker says, looking down. Charles feels his anger soften a little at the other boy’s obvious attempt to make up for being a jackass. And he doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge after getting a face-full of weak beer.

_...just suck it up Erik. Just do it._

Erik. Dirty Talker has a name. Charles fights the urge to smile.

_...ask him out. He’s wearing a cardigan again. What is it about him and cardigans? Grandpas wear cardigans, but they certainly don’t wear them that TIGHT. How can this guy make a cardigan look so good? Jesus Christ. Not usually this nervous._

Erik stops staring down at his shoes and lifts his head to look at Charles. Charles realizes that his eyes aren’t just blue. They are nice, ringed with thick dark lashes. Really nice.

“So, uh, see you around,” Erik says, shuffling his feet and shoving his hands into the pocket of his well-fitted jeans. Suddenly Charles feels a bit grateful that Erik can’t see HIS thoughts as they wander to his other positive attributes. He turns and starts to walk away and Charles takes the opportunity to examine how his ass looks in those jeans. Charles licks his lips. Then Charles gets an idea. A very naughty idea.

“Oh, Erik?” Charles calls out. Erik stills, his shoulders tense, then he turns around and looks at Charles quizzically.

“Yeah?”

“Did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

Erik frowns. “No.”

“Oh. I thought maybe…” Charles’ voice trails off.

“No.” Erik says again.

“Okay.” Charles says. Erik turns and walks away.

 

* * *

 

Raven thinks Charles should feel bad. She tells him he’s fucking with the poor boy between bites of buttered toast, pausing only to grab a napkin and wipe away the crumbs that have stuck in her lip gloss. Charles thinks Erik deserves what he gets after objectifying him in his cardigan. So when Erik comes up to him the next day while waiting for coffee, all shy and awkward, Charles keeps messing with him in the most undignified way. There’s just something about Erik that makes Charles want to get into his head.

After that, it's an entire week before Charles sees Erik again. He tells Raven that Dirty Talker actually has a decent ass and Raven tells him he’s fallen off his high horse when it comes to objectification. Charles ignores her and goes back to grading papers while she picks at her nails. Little sisters can be so annoying. Anyway, it’s not like Charles cares what Erik the Dirty Talker does with his time. It’s not like he’s looking for him when he stands in line for his pumpkin spice latte. Not at all.

Finally Erik shows up, just as awkward and uncomfortable as before. He smiles at Charles and asks if he’s going to try the newest holiday drink being offered. Charles tries to muster up a glare but can’t quite make it work. They stand in line and chat, and it turns out that Charles enjoys talking to Erik. He’s an engineering student. Smart. Plus he enjoys how befuddled and embarrassed Erik is around him. It gives him a certain sense of triumph.

They start to meet more often. A couple of times a week at least, standing in line while they wait for coffee. It’s always the same. Erik always mentally working himself up to asking Charles out but never saying anything, Charles pretending to be entirely clueless. He tells Erik his favorite restaurant. He mentions he likes to spend evenings perusing bookstores. He tells him that he likes dogs, that he hates driving in the city, that he is going to save the world one day with his research.

He does not bring up the fact that yes, he actually does like his ass licked.

Charles takes great pleasure in watching Erik squirm. Still, it’s not like Erik stops running into him at Starbucks. If anything, the number of times Erik happens to be getting his coffee at the same time as Charles starts to feel way more than coincidental.

Somewhere in the middle of this strange game Charles is playing, he and Erik actually get to know each other. Charles mentions that he likes to play chess. Erik says he plays chess too. Erik mentions his involvement in the mutant rights movement. Charles remains mum, knowing that when Erik finds out that he’s a mutant as well, he’ll ask what his powers are, and, when he finds out his powers - which everyone always asks - he'll want to know how much Charles has been in his head. He does politely ask to see one of the flyers Erik is gripping in his right hand and look at it with some level of interest.

Charles starts to seek Erik out and about, running into him at the bookstore, or walking across the university main square. It’s not that hard. He catches glimpses of his thoughts, enough to know his movements, then shows up at the right time. Raven says he’s a total creeper. Charles tells her that he can’t help it if Erik’s thought patterns are especially strong, then tells Raven to fuck off. It’s Shonda Rhimes Thursday and he never misses an episode. Plus if she’s going to pull all-nighters at his apartment, she should be chipping in for coffee.

Raven says Charles is falling for Dirty Talker. Charles tells her he’s not going to spring for pizza anymore, and ignores her observation that the one time Erik didn’t think about his ass Charles spent the entire day sulking and gave all his students bad grades. Sisters aren’t really worth the trouble, Charles informs Raven point blank. Raven sticks her tongue out then takes a bite of pizza.

What Charles doesn’t realize is that he’s slipped up. He slipped up at the beginning, and it’s only a matter of time before Erik realizes it. Then it happens….

Erik is grabbing a bite at a sandwich shop near the office where Charles holds his TA hours. Charles knows this because he hears his thoughts drifting along.

_Roast beef, mayo, extra mustard. God, I’m hungry. Stayed too long in the library. Should have packed an apple._

Charles smiles at the comfort of hearing something as boring as a sandwich order. He always smiles when he hears Erik. He thinks he might be hungry as well, so he packs up his things and heads towards the shop. When he he arrives, Erik sees him and waves, flashing Charles a bright smile. His thoughts about a paper he has to write float away and are replaced by…

_...that ass. Oh god, Charles. He’s not interested. Stop it Erik. You ruined it already. He threw beer in your face. He knew you wanted to…._

Erik’s thoughts fade. Charles watches as his face shifts from mildly concerned to shocked.

Oh shit.

“Charles?” Erik says slowly as Charles walks up to him. Charles grins. He hopes he looks charming.

“Looks like rain?” Charles says a little too brightly.

“It’s sunny.”’Erik sounds entirely unamused. “You knew I wanted to lick your ass.” Erik states, not caring that the woman in front of him whips her head around at his announcement. “You were in my head. You were snooping in my head.”

“Um…”

“You mother-fucking asshole, you’re a mutant.”

“Define mutant.” Charles says with a bit of a nervous laugh, “I mean, blond hair is a mutation, after all. A common one, but a mutation nonetheless….”

Erik does not look amused.

“A fucking TELEPATH. I’ve been feeling awful about being such a jerk and you’ve been playing me all along.”

Charles can’t think of anything else to say, so he blurts out the truth.

“I’m sorry,” Charles says hurriedly. “My sister dragged me to that stupid party, and she knows crowds are hard, and the way you were thinking of me, well it was....”

Erik is staring at him. Charles’ words fade away because he’s staring like he wants...wants to…

_...kiss him, right now. Those lips…_

“It was?” Erik says, his voice tinged with amusement as he watches Charles start to squirm.

It was objectification. It was out of line. It was...

“Hot.” Charles blurts out, then he glances around, wondering how many ears are hearing their exchange. “It was hot. Oh my god, Erik. We’re having this conversation in a SANDWICH SHOP.”

“Hmmmm.” Erik hums, still staring at Charles. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that people came here for corned beef on rye, not inappropriately-timed dirty talk. His eyes narrow, his lips quirk. “You think I’m hot?”

“Erik!”

“You think it would be hot if I licked your ass.”

“ERIK!”

“You like my ass?”

“Not here,” Charles hisses. “Oh my god.”

“I need to know, Charles.” Erik almost purrs. “You like my ass, right?”

Charles stares at Erik, unable to form any coherent thoughts. The people around them are no longer just listening-in and instead have taken to openly staring. Charles opens his mouth to deny what Erik is saying, to tell him that he is not like HIM, he does NOT just walk around thinking about licking strangers’ asses, although Erik has a very nice ass. And hips. And eyes. And hands. And…

_Fuck it_

“FINE!” Charles spits out. “You win. Yes, I’ve objectified you.”

“I’m more than just a hot piece of tail, Charles.” Erik says, his eyebrows raised, his voice tinged with triumph. “I have a brain, a heart. I like cats, I give to CHARITIES.”

“Fuck off.” Charles hisses. Oh, Raven is going to love this one. She’s never going let him live this down.

“Fucking. Hmmmm…. Sounds good,” Erik purrs, “Maybe we should go somewhere more, um….”

Erik stares at Charles for a long moment then his face shifts and a smug look comes across it. Oh no, Charles thinks. Erik scrunches up his forehead and suddenly Charles is hit with an image that sends a shot of arousal straight to his groin.

“Oh.” Charles says. _Oh yes._

“...private.” Erik finishes as the same time.

 

* * *

 

Raven proves to be even more insufferable when she learns that the awful party she dragged him to finally resulted in a date. Then another, and another. She tells Erik one morning over breakfast - Erik in Charles’ robe looking delightfully tousled and smelling like sleep - that she never approved of Charles’ little game. Charles blushes, still feeling bad for being such a jerk. She tells Erik that Charles should have known better, creeping around in Erik’s head without his permission.

“No worries.” Erik says, grinning at Charles over his piece of toast. Charles’ eyes widen.

“Oh no.” Charles manages to sputter before his knees start to buckle and his cock jumps. Erik looks god damn smug, biting into his toast with a smile.

_So good to fuck you. That tight asshole. The way you begged for more._

“Are you okay?” Raven asks, staring at Charles, who is gripping the edge of the counter that he’s been leaning against.

“Yes.” Charles croaks. He levels a glare at Erik who ignores him.

“I have my ways.” Erik says slyly, “of getting in his head as well.”

**~fin~**


End file.
